


and a partridge in a petri

by gingerbreadlove



Series: talk nerdy to me [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Movies, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter References, Or not, SHIELD Academy, Snowball Fight, and Fitzsimmons will stay out of the damn snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerbreadlove/pseuds/gingerbreadlove
Summary: Fitz and Simmons' first Christmas Eve away from home...traditions are missed...snowballs are thrown...and Christmas movies are a perfect end to the day for these two little genius best friends. (December 24, 2004)





	and a partridge in a petri

**Author's Note:**

> As promised: an academy Fitzsimmons Christmas fic to kick off my academy series (hopefully). Also, it's longer than I meant it to be, but it's pretty darn cute. I apologize for my writing quality because I'm not a pro or anything, I just really love Fitzsimmons. I think they say like one bad word, but I'll never have them say anything worse than what's on the show, just wanted to give a heads up for that.  
> Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays!

“MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE!” Fitz hollarred instead of knocking as he entered Simmons’ room, stomping the last of the snow off of his shoes. 

The wide, flashy grin melted from his face as he got a mere half-smile and hardly a head-turn in response. 

“Hey Fitz.” Simmons said softly, looking back at the picture in her hands before setting it down on her tidy side-table and standing up, trying to put on a smile.

Fitz lowered his eyebrows, taking his coat, hat, and gloves off, and wiping his runny nose with the sleeve of his ugly Christmas sweater--one of the many he’d worn this week, as he had a surprisingly large collection. He really never knew what mood to expect from her.

“What’s got ye down?” He asked gently, walking over to her and trying to get a glance of the picture she’d been holding.

Her lips attempted a natural-looking smile, but it didn’t make it as far as her eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s Christmas Eve, everything’s perfect.” She said quickly, in a manner just as unconvincing as her acting, and stood up abruptly. Fitz pressed his lips into a firm line, knowing everything was  _ not _ ‘just fine’.

“Hot cocoa?” She asked, moving to stir the pot on her hot-plate while looking over her shoulder at Fitz.

He gave a nod, twisting his mouth absently. He didn’t want to upset Simmons, but he couldn’t just ignore the fact that something was up. He stepped toward her nightstand and was able to make out the picture at a glance. A slightly younger version of his best friend stood bundled up in a green wool coat and a clashingly patterned scarf and hat. She was tucked between a man and a woman--whom he knew to be her parents. The flash had drowned out a lot of the color and details, though it was still a good picture, and Fitz could imagine how red their cheeks had been that night.

“You miss them?” He asked, pointing at the picture.

Simmons glanced over at him, pouring steamy hot cocoa into mugs. She sighed, rolling her eyes and glowered across the room in annoyance that he hadn’t just left it alone. 

“Don’t touch that, you’ll leave fingerprints on it.” She answered in a tight tone, throwing a peppermint stick in each mug and snatching them up, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she strode over to Fitz and shoved his mug at him.

He flinched a bit as the hot liquid sloshed over the side, a small splatter running down the side of his face. “What was that for?” He demanded, swiping his sleeve over his face sharply.

“I’m sorry.” Simmons shot back, meaning to sound more sorry than she had, but forcing her face to keep the scowl that she had planted firmly on Fitz. 

Fitz huffed back, voice raising enough that it cracked mid sentence. “I just wan’ to help!”

Simmons set her mug down on the nightstand with a thud, and turned her back to him. “It’s nothing you can fix, so just... _ leave it alone! _ ” Her voice was high with emotion, and Fitz sighed.

“What am I supposed to do, then?!” He looked at her, practically shouting. He clenched his teeth with frustration, desperate for an explanation. “Pretend everything is fine and dandy when it  _ obviously _ isn’t? Why do you always make it so hard to help you?” 

“Why do you have to be so insistent on helping?! Why can’t you just--I don’t know--let me be?” She seethed, tossing her hands up in the air, but her voice faltered at the end of her question.

Fitz couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the tightness of her voice that let him know she was holding back tears. He put his hand on his neck and slumped over with guilt. He shouldn’t have said  _ anything _ . He--the  _ master _ of speaking--should have known that his interference would only make things worse. 

“I just wanted to make you feel better.” His voice sounded lost, having dropped the harsh tone, and he sighed apologetically.

Simmons echoed his sigh, tugging on a strand of her long, dark hair as she slowly turned back to him. “I know, I just...there’s nothing  _ you  _ can do.” She shook her head, letting go of the strand and running both hands through her hair, pulling it back as if to put it in a ponytail. Her eyes landed on her friend finally. Fitz looked back at her, eyes wide and wishing he knew how to help. Simmons sat down beside him on the bed, defeated, and leaned her head onto his shoulder. He put an arm around her awkwardly. 

_ Girls and their mood transitions…  _ He thought to himself.

“I guess I’m just not used to having someone there who is willing to help.” She finally admitted after a long silence, turning her face up to look him in the eyes.

Fitz’s arm had fallen from her shoulder, and he leaned back on it for support, heaving a sigh. “Me neither.” He said, twisting his lips in thought and staring at the other side of the room for a moment before looking back at her. She smiled softly, blinking back at him. 

They were lost in an ocean of new. The Academy, the people, the country. Everything was new for them. Even friendship. They were still two people so used to being lonely that they were unfamiliar with what it felt like to have a friend. It was easy to forget how short of a time they’d known each other because of how easily they'd clicked as friends. 

“Will you snap if I press again?” Fitz asked after a moment, still concerned. His gaze flickered between Simmons and her photograph before he raised his mug to his lips.

Simmons sighed. “It’s silly.” She said, stirring her hot cocoa with the peppermint stick. 

“Not to you.” Fitz replied. That much was obvious. If it had upset Simmons this much, it meant a good amount to her...and because he was her best and only friend, by nature it meant a good amount to him. “Or me.”

Simmons looked up with a soft smile to see the heartfelt look on Fitz’s face. She couldn't  _ not _ tell him. Sighing, she looked back into her hot cocoa and took a sip, then a long pause. “I suppose I miss my parents, yes. That's most of it.” She studied the swirling shades of brown in her mug. “And usually I can just make myself forget, with all the revising...I can focus on other things…” She trailed off, lost in her swirls.

Fitz’s focus was solely on Simmons. He really was a good listener when it was needed. “But…?” He urged her on gently.

She glanced sideways at him, then opposite to the photo on her nightstand, and back to the mug. “But,” She began, “with the holidays, they're too busy to talk, and...we always have these traditions, and I know it's silly, but I really miss them.” She raised her gaze to his, watching him process for a moment before taking a sip of her hot chocolate. 

Fitz lowered his eyebrows, drawing them together so that a line formed between them. He turned to her with a look of sympathy. He missed his mum too. “What kind of traditions?” He asked her, twisting his lips.

Simmons’s eyebrows raised slightly, though not out of surprise. “Well,” She began, “on Christmas Eve, we spend most of the day at the city Christmas Markets,” She paused for a moment, “and we each get to pick out a new handmade ornament for the tree.” She was smiling softly with the thought. “Then we go ice skating--or see a pantomime--or both, depending. After that, we go to the bakery to pick up the our cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning, and go home.” Her grin had grown, and her eyes had brightened. “There are decorations that we leave until Christmas Eve to put up, like our new ornaments and the candle wreath, so we do those when we get home. We make King’s Crowns and other things to fill our crackers with, then go to bed, and in the morning we have our cinnamon rolls and open presents, and we make Christmas pudding, and Grandmum comes over, and sometimes my aunt and uncle, and we open any gifts that they brought, and we watch the Queen’s speech while cooking, and then we open our crackers at the table before we eat, and we all stuff ourselves, oh it’s so much fun, I love Christmas…” She exhaled happily, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Fitz’s mouth hung open. He looked at her wide-eyed and swallowed. “That’s a lot of traditions.” He stated, considering everything. He downed the last of his hot chocolate. 

“Is it?” Simmons asked, looking at him. 

He nodded, his mouth full of peppermint hot cocoa, and cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s.

“Well what about you? Tell me your traditions.” 

Fitz’s face fell slightly as he swallowed. “Well,” He sighed, thinking back on the last few Christmas Eves spent working shifts at the local pub alongside his mum to earn money for schooling, “we don't really have much in the way of traditions…” He twisted his lips in thought. “We always have a good Christmas dinner and bake Scottish empire biscuits and Christmas cookies, though.” He smiled a bit.

Simmons had narrowed her eyes as she listened, but they lit up as he came up with some things he did as traditions. “Do you decorate them?” She asked warmly. “The biscuits, I mean.”

Fitz nodded, smiling down at his empty mug. “Yeah.” His eyes floated up to hers, and he grinned. “Last year, I gave one cookie a Dumbledore beard, and Mum was confused, so we spent the rest of the afternoon catching her up on the movies.” He laughed, eyes bright, and shook his head. 

“That's fantastic.” Simmons laughed. “Speaking of Harry Potter,” She grinned broadly with excitement at the opportunity to bring it up, “did you see that JK Rowling finished the Half Blood Prince?” She leaned forward as Fitz’s jaw fell open, eyes wide.

“What?! No!” He exclaimed, jumping to his feet, ready to start searching the internet. “Where?! When?!” He looked at her, desperate for the details. 

She jumped to her feet, grabbing both his forearms tightly with enthusiasm. “Tuesday! Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t see the announcement! She gave details about the plot too.” Simmons bragged on her superior knowledge.

Fitz’s mouth hung open in a shocked smile. “Oh my God.” He breathed, eyes were wide with desperation for more. “ _ Well… _ ?” He prompted, and Simmons tugged at his sleeve, dragging him over to the computer in a hurry, and nearly pulling the sweater off him. 

He pulled his shirt back onto his shoulder and leaned over Simmons as she brought up the article online so he could read while she talked. “Harry Potter will survive, but one major character won’t!!!” She raised both hands to her face in agony. “Oh Fitz, someone is going to die! Why must she do this!?” 

Fitz knit his eyebrows in concerned shock as his eyes breezed through the details. “She wouldn’t kill Ron or Hermione, would she?” He looked at Simmons for reassurance.

‘She can’t!” Simmons exclaimed, looking horrified. “I won’t let her!” 

Fitz sighed, scratching his curls. “I’m with you.” He agreed. “But I don’t think there’s much we can do if she’s already finished it.”

“Or Ginny...or Dumbledore...Harry already lost Sirius…” Simmons was still stuck on who could  _ not _ die. She groaned. “Can  _ nobody _ die for once?” She pleaded and tucked her feet up onto the chair, hugging her legs tightly. 

“Nobody died in the Prisoner of Azkaban.” Fitz said distractedly, still thinking of the sad news as well.

Simmons barely reacted, staring at the words on the screen. “I don’t want to lose anyone.” She said softly, giving a moment of silence before getting up to wash the mugs.

Fitz wanted to comfort her by saying that the characters weren’t real, but he knew that wasn’t true. These characters were real to them. “Me neither.” He sighed. “But authors always have their reasons. I trust JK Rowling. She loves all of them as much as we do.”

Simmons pressed her lips together, sudding up the sponge. The running water drummed softly and rhythmically against the metal sink-bowl as she scrubbed the mugs, deep in thought. A long moment passed as she put a little too much focus into making certain that the mugs were spotless. Her hands paused and one of the mugs clanked against the sink. She turned her eyes up at the ceiling, and sighed before opening her mouth. “Everything changes so fast.”

Fitz’s head bobbed slightly as he sat slouched back on her bed. She wasn’t talking about the books anymore. “I know what you mean.” He looked at his hands. “I hate change.” 

Simmons shrugged, narrowing her eyes softly at the wall behind the sink, and pausing her scrubbing for another moment. “I don’t dislike change itself.” She stated thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully. “Change is…” She looked up, searching for the right word, “necessary...I just wish…” She shook her head, going back to scrubbing. “I don’t know. I just wish  _ everything _ didn’t have to change. Traditions are supposed to be something that doesn’t have to change. It’s in their definition. They’re supposed to be reliable.” 

Fitz nodded thoughtfully as she spoke, and looked up when she stopped. “Technically,” He began, causing Simmons to roll her eyes with irritation, “‘tradition’ just means something that is handed down, or practiced in pattern. That doesn’t mean it stays the same.” His eyes were on Simmons as she glared at the mug she was washing. 

“Well it should.” She muttered, picking up a candy-cane striped towel to dry the dishes with. 

Fitz leaned forward, thinking, his elbows resting on his knees as he did so. Simmons finished drying the mugs, and came back to sit on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and leaning her head against the wall.

After a long moment, Fitz looked up at her. “Maybe it’s the act of having traditions that brings the joy of them.” Simmons narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical. He put up his hand, making his finger spin in air circles to hold her attention. “Just...maybe…” He huffed for words, and Simmons waited patiently. “Maybe it’s not the traditions themselves that make having a tradition fun...maybe it’s just  _ having a tradition _ , no matter what it is.”

Simmons nodded, eyes still narrowed. “I understand what you’re saying, but, Fitz, what’s your point here?” She asked, tilting her head a bit and sitting up.

“Well, we could start new traditions.” He suggested with a shrug. “They won’t be the same, but they’ll be traditions…”

“That sounds like a fun idea.” Simmons smiled a bit and sat onto her knees. “Like what?”

“Huh?” Fitz replied.

Simmons rolled her eyes softly. “What _ traditions _ ?” 

Fitz hummed in contemplation, slouching in thought and biting his lip. “Hot chocolate?” He suggested, looking at the mugs. 

Simmons rolled her eyes. “That’s not a tradition.”

“Sure it is.” Fitz said, smirking. “Anything can be.”

Simmons hummed noncommittally. “Okay what  _ else _ ?” She urged him. Hot chocolate wasn’t enough.

Fitz smiled, and his gaze was pulled to the window, which was covered by curtains. “Have you ever had a Christmas with snow?” He asked.

Simmons shook her head. “Not that I remember...but snow isn’t a tradition either.” She reminded him.

He stood up and slid over to the windows, shrugging. “Well it’d be fun nevertheless.” He pulled open the curtains to reveal a bright scene, blanketed in white, and stared out for a moment before turning back to Simmons with a hopeful grin.

She rolled her eyes, trying to give a look of disapproval, but a smile won over. “I suppose it  _ would _ be fun, but we were trying to think of traditions.” She said, staring out at the wintery scene.

“Right.” Fitz nodded, twisting his mouth back up in thought. Neither of them had cars to drive into town or go anywhere at all, so any ideas had to be on campus. His gaze remained out the window on the practically untouched snow. Since most students had gone home for the holidays, there was hardly a soul to disturb it. “But do you think...couldn’t we just…”

She raised her eyebrows looking back at him and waiting for him to finish.

He glanced out the window. “You know...before it melts?” He gave a small, hopeful smile.

Simmons smiled, and rolled her eyes sarcastically. Fitz looked back at her with optimism. 

“Fine.” She sighed, acting as if she hadn’t actually been hoping to go out in the snow all along. 

Fitz grinned in victory and was immediately shoving his tennis shoes, hat, and coat back on. His hands were chapped because he refused to wear gloves, but he was used to it. Jemma got her coat on, along with a hat, scarf, gloves, and snow boots. 

“Alright.” Jemma said as she pulled her second boot on, and stood up. “Ready?” 

Fitz grinned and jumped up from her bed. “Yes! Let's go!” He was too excited to keep at a walk, so he ran down the hall, forcing Jemma to follow his lead. 

“Fitz slow down!” She laughed after him as they hustled down the stairs. 

The cold air hit them both like an ice wall, and the cutting wind didn't help. Simmons pursed her lips against the chill, squinting her eyes in the bright light. She was about to comment on the beauty of the crisp, white scene, despite the cold, when a cold lump brushed her shoulder.

“Fitz!” She exclaimed, dusting the white powder off her shoulder, where the snowball had barely licked her.

Fitz was already making more ammo. “You're lucky I'm a terrible shot.” He laughed, cheeks already rosy in the cold.

Simmons narrowed her eyes. “Oh it's on.” She bent over to scoop her own handful of snow, as another snowball flew past her. She snorted at Fitz’s second miss, grinning.

“Bloody…” Fitz muttered in frustration, then looked up just in time to get nailed in the face by Simmons’ snowball. He sucked in a chilled gasp and slowly blinked open his eyes, grimacing. “You,” He said in a scarily steady voice, “are gonna wish you hadnae done that.” He brushed the slush from his burning face, and bent over to produce more snowballs. His fingers were already frozen to the point where they felt numb and distant, but rolling balls was easy enough. His next one was ready before hers. He ran a few steps closer, and, finally, hit her shoulder. 

Simmons gasped, and Fitz fell to his knees in triumph. “Ha!” He exclaimed, rosy cheeks rising with his smile. “HAHAHA--” He was hit by two more snowballs, and his celebratory laughter died off. This time he decided on a more effective method. In one motion, he scooped up an armful of snow and jumped up to dump it on Simmons.

She let out a high pitched scream. “Fitz!” She bent over to copy his tactic, but when she tried to dump it on him, he dodged--or tried to. Laughing, he tripped and face planted into the snow, also tripping up Simmons, who hadn't been expecting that. She landed across his stomach, together forming an X with their bodies, and Fitz grunted loudly as she landed on top of him.

“Ow.” He complained as he regained his breath from having the wind slightly knocked out of him. Simmons was small, but she was no smaller than him himself. “Ow!” He exclaimed again as she sat up, digging her elbow into his boney frame as she did so. “Watch where you plant those elbows!” He sat up, holding his stomach and shaking the snow from his hat.

Simmons grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” She began, “But technically...you fell first and tripped me, so…” She raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging.

“Yeah yeah,  _ my _ fault.” He said, rolling his eyes, then jumped to his feet with another armful of snow. 

“Ah!! No!” Simmons rolled out of the way as the small pile fell from his arms, landing in the spot where she had just been, and began packing another ball in her hands.

Fitz laughed at her shrieking, and didn’t give up. Her snowball crashed into his wet coat just as he tossed his at her, and caught her leg. Both let out enthusiastic whoops, and bent over to make more. The next snowball knocked Fitz’s hat off, but he did a double-toss at Simmons, one of which caught her in the cheek. “Watch how tight you’re packing those!” She complained breathlessly, rubbing her cheek, though only slightly distracted from her snowball-rolling. “That one was straight ice.” 

“Good thing you’re not made of glass.” He laughed. She smiled evilly and hit him again, throwing the ball hard. “Ouy! Bloody hypocrite…” He trailed off.

“Taste of your own medicine, I’d say.” She commented back, and missed him as she threw the next one.

He grinned, taking his armful of snowballs and running to dodge her next throws. His aim plus taking a running shot was a setup for misses, and only one of his whole supply hit her. He was about ready to quit, bending over to make one last ball, when he noticed that Simmons had disappeared. He sat up and was about to call out for her when a mound of snow poured over his head, piling in his coat collar. He screamed, and Simmons laughed with glee. Fitz snapped his mouth shut and turned to glare at her, his blush not noticeable on his already rosy cheeks. 

“Oh that's funny now is it?” He asked standing up with his oversized snowball. Simmons’s eyes went wide and she jumped aside, but not in time. The snowball exploded on her shoulder, coating her left side in white. She froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. Fitz’s eyes went wide. “But...you're supposed…?” He stuttered in his own anticlimactic shock, having wanted to get her back for the number of times she’d hit him, before the laughter caught on. 

“How cold are you?” Simmons laughed after a bit, her own teeth chattering.

Fitz hadn't realized how wet and cold he was until that moment. His hands had been quite numb for a while, his shoes were soaked through, and he’d lost feeling in his face to the point where he didn't really know if he was even smiling or not. “Very.” He answered, laughter fading off as he turned around, looking for his hat.

“It's over here.” Simmons pointed to his right, knowing what he was looking for. He thanked her, and they started walking back, laughing between themselves. “I think your curls are frozen.” Simmons laughed, delicately patting his hair--which had melted and refrozen the snow she had dumped on it, giving the dusty curls a slight crunch as if he’d put too much gel in them.

Fitz gave her an amused look and raised his hands to feel for himself. “They  _ are _ frozen.” He confirmed, laughing.

Simmons’ laughter faded. “Fitz your knuckles are bleeding. You really need to wear gloves.” She told him with a grimace and shook her head in disapproval.

He glanced down at his hands and his lips twitched with slight regret. “Yeah well.” He said with a shrug and licked his dry knuckles so the blood disappeared. 

Simmons gave him a look, slanting her eyebrows somewhere between amusement and disgust. “I thought you were squeamish.” She commented.

He rolled his eyes. “I’s my own blood, Simmons. I can hardly be afraid of that.” 

She raised her eyebrows further and shook her head. “Whatever.” She unlocked the dorm door with her keycard, and they stepped inside. A cloud of warmth engulfed them as the door closed, shutting out the bitter chill. Both let out a sigh of relief at the thawing strength of the building’s heating. Making their way upstairs, legs stiff with cold as they defrosted, they left wet tracks behind them. Both of their hair dripped with moisture, and both faces were bright red. When they entered Simmons’ room, Fitz moved to collapse onto her bed. 

“Don’t you dare.” She warned him. He caught himself just in time, nearly falling as he tried not to touch her bed.

“Dare huh what?” He asked in confusion. Simmons let out a tired breath, rolling her eyes.

“Dare put your wet self on my bed.” She specified with an amused scoff. 

Fitz glanced down at himself, just now realizing that he would soak her bed.

“More cocoa?” Simmons asked as Fitz leaned awkwardly against the wall. 

“Please.” He nodded, grinning, as his teeth began to chatter, the wet cold seeping into his core. “See...hot-tch-chocolate is already becoming a tradit-t-tion.”

Simmons laughed and raised her eyebrows, then shivered and looked over at Fitz. She put the spoon on the counter and moved to her closet to find some dry clothes. She decided that Christmas pyjamas were appropriate, and turned to Fitz, whose teeth were still chattering. “D-do you want to borrow something dry?” She asked, concerned. “We’re about the same size.”

Fitz looked unenthusiastic about wearing Simmons’ clothing, but shrugged as his body tended with shivers. “S-sure I guess.” He answered, and Simmons began digging for something at least somewhat appropriate.

“How about-t this?” She asked, pulling out her tracksuit pants and a SHIELD Academy jumper. 

“‘s long’s it’s dry.” He said, gratefully taking the clothes and a spare towel from her trembling hands, and heading for the bathrooms to change. 

Simmons changed quickly while he was gone, wrapping herself in her TARDIS robe for extra warmth, and going back to stir the hot chocolate.

Fitz came back in a few moments later, looking somewhat goofy, but not entirely ridiculous. He set the towel down and flopped onto her bed. “We should watch a Christmas movie.” He suggested, looking across the room to her computer. 

“Okay,” Simmons agreed with a smile, “but you have to decide which one.”

Fitz groaned. “Fine, I'll choose.” He said, rolling back off the bed and clicking a few buttons to access movies in the Academy’s online library. “Do you like the Grinch?” He questioned, staring at the screen.

Simmons nodded. “Sure, that works.” She filled their mugs with hot liquid and began piling extra pillows and blankets on the floor to create a movie-watching nest.

Fitz began the movie as Simmons sat down contentedly in the soft, fluffy pile, her hair still damp. He turned the volume as high as it would go, and angled the screen for the best view before settling down next to her, grabbing a pillow and hugging it against his chest.

“Okay but how can you hate the Whos?” Fitz asked, taking a mouthful of warm cocoa as the Grinch watched the happy ring of villagers circle the tree.

“Fitz if you start this discussion you know where it will go.” Simmons warned, sticking her melted candy cane in her mouth with precision.

Fitz rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “Is it impossible for us to have a non-scientific discussion of a movie?” He asked, knowing she didn’t approve of the “two sizes too small” heart that the Grinch possessed in the  _ fictional _ movie.

“Have you ever watched Star Wars with yourself?” She quipped back, narrowing her eyes. “Or Back to the Future?”

Fitz put the pillow down and turned to her, swallowing a drink of hot chocolate. “Oh don’t get me started on when we watched Gattaca...or...or Jurassic Park.” He pressed his lips together tightly and took a sip from his mug. “Don’t blame it all on me.” 

Simmons sighed, glancing at the screen. “Okay, fine.” She admitted her fault. “Let’s try not to examine this movie then...for the sake of the Christmas spirit.” She smiled slightly, humming along to the song of the Whos.

“Deal.” Fitz nodded with a small grin, and slouched against her bed. “From a purely non-scientific stance, the Whos are impossible not to adore, though.”

Simmons took a deep sigh, forcing herself to smile at the loving circle of Whos. “I agree.” She nodded, curling deeper underneath her blanket.

Several hours later, they were falling asleep halfway through their fourth movie. After the Grinch wrapped up, Simmons had made some sandwiches and some tea. Additional hot chocolate been made periodically from that point, and between Elf and the Polar Express, they’d had mac and cheese. Now, Simmons was buried under several blankets, and Fitz was dozing off as the Express made it across Glacier Gulch just in time to escape the ice breaking behind it. Simmons’ eyes were glued to the screen, neither of them having seen this movie before, as it was a fairly recent release. She glanced over at Fitz, whose head was tucked into his chest as he laid on the floor, one arm tightly around the pillow which rose and fell with each breath. His eyelids didn’t even flutter when she nudged him, so she settled down further into her blankets in case she was taken by sleep too.

By the time the train’s bell rang out on Christmas morning, Simmons’ eyes had fallen shut, and sleep had tipped her over so she was slouched against her best friend’s side, tangled in her blankets. The credits rolled, and the laptop screen eventually went dark, leaving the pair of teens asleep in silence on the dorm room floor, finalizing the end of their first Christmas Eve apart from their families and homes. It had started out bittersweet, but this day would forever be a happy memory. They may be far from home, but they weren’t alone. They would always have each other to brighten their day.


End file.
